


Taken

by chaoz



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Drama, Fluff, Gen, Podfic Welcome, Season/Series 04, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26543260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoz/pseuds/chaoz
Summary: Set in season 4 after ‘A New Man’ and based on the challenge Shatter by Kittenshift17 (EF)Spike only recently left the ‘hospitality’ of the Scoobies when Buffy shows up on Spike's doorstep one night. She's shivering, bleeding, and scared. There's a dazed look in her eyes - she looks drugged. She looks like she's been through hell. Looking up at Spike, swaying slightly as though close to passing out, Buffy mumbles, "...didn't know where else to go..." then, she collapses in Spike's arms.Spike plans to get his sweet revenge for indignities suffered but alas – as his plans are wont to be – Spike’s plan somehow ends up foiled again!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. A Captive

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first published Spuffy story. Well, it’s a bit more of a pre-Spuffy as per season 4 demands but if you squint not all that hard, you might see some anyway ; )
> 
> The Challenge has been tweaked, a tiny bit, hopefully not enough to disappoint.  
> This fic has been alpha read by my offline best friend Rover and MsXGingerXNinja has lend her time and knowledge as beta to work out the wrinkles (at least before I fiddled with it some more)
> 
> Do not post this on other sites, it's available on EF, FF.net and ao3 already.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

The weather uncomfortably reminded Spike of Merry Old. Rain. Endless drizzling rain and grey clouds, third day and night in a row now. Neither dog nor demon fancied going out in this weather – no demons to kill and no damsels to save or scare. Even the Slayer hadn’t deemed going out worth her while to darken his doorstep to harass him.

William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, Spike, badest of the biggest Big Bads was bored. Bored out of his mind. The lower level of his crypt had acquired an unpleasantly damp note and an annoying dripping sound so he was pacing around the sarcophagus forcefully enough to have made himself dizzy. Cabin fever, he decided with the telly images mirroring the weather outside, he felt trapped and bored and gearing up for a major fit of pique. He threw himself backwards onto his sarcophagus, overshooting a bit and leaving him with his head dangling over the side he growled in frustration

“That’s all it takes to fix the town? Sodding drizzle? What’s it take to get some action anyway?”

On cue he heard slow and slugging, squelching footsteps coming closer and he perked up with a nasty grin. “Ta, mates.”

Spike’s mind was running a mile a minute, it could be some good old-fashioned ghoul, stupid but tough, didn’t sound big enough for a real challenge but as long as it could take a few hits he could draw that out to entertain him for quite a while.

He was daydreaming about the amount of violence he could get from this little fella when something unexpected happened.

There was a knock on his door and the footsteps had quieted.

Spike frowned, he’d planned to let that thing get a head start and get himself a bit of a chase in as well but now it came up knocking at his door? He hated this town.  
Enraged and in demon visage he rolled off the stone lid and barrelled towards the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges with his forceful opening, intending to scare the thing into running and giving him the chase anyway.

He was not prepared for what he saw. The Slayer stood on his doorstep. She was shivering, bleeding, and smelled scared. There was a dazed look in her eyes - she looked drugged. She looked like she'd been through hell. Caked in mud, blood and other things he couldn’t identify. When she looked up at Spike he thought he saw relief flicker in her eyes briefly, swaying slightly as though close to passing out, she mumbled, "...didn't know where else to go..." then, she collapsed in Spike's arms.

Spike dropped her immediately. A near silent grunt told him that she wasn’t unconscious and just too weak to stand. His eyes glared daggers into the roof of his crypt. You’ve got to be kidding me, not what I meant! He thought towards whoever he’d just recently thanked.

When he turned his gaze down towards the crumpled body, he saw the Slayer hadn’t moved from where he’d dumped her and was dripping slowly on his crypt floor. He considered using the door to shove her out of the crypt so he wouldn’t have to touch her but saw that it would most likely only catch her legs and feet. Both of which were bare he noticed in the back of his mind while the rest of his mind considered whether cutting her body in half with the help of his door would make the chip fire. Technically he’d simply be closing his door…

He heard her breathing change, coming out in shallow gusts now and he rolled his eyes.

“Slayer, you gonna go all hysteric on me now? ‘Cus I’ve got better things to do than deal with you bawling over some dirt on your favourite jumper.”

He guessed some verbal sparring with the Slayer was better than wearing a moat into the floor around the stone coffin.

Only the Slayer didn’t respond. At least not as expected. Her head slowly lifted and her glazed eyes took him in.

“Shhhhpike?” she slurred “What’re you doing here? What ‘m I doing here? Where is here?” Her head wobbled before dropping down to the floor with a loud thunk. Spike winced when he smelled fresh blood coming from her forehead.

A slow smile spread over his face, he had the Slayer high as a kite in his crypt, injured and in no shape to heap abuse on him. Oh, the things he could do to her! He sent another thanks to whomever gifted him with this treat, his boredom was forgotten.

He grabbed her by the oversized shirt she was wearing and dragged her fully inside his crypt so he could close the door and add the crossbar. Frowning at the trail of dirt, blood and other mucus this left on his floor. He had intended to drag her to the sublevel but if that messed up the last more or less clean area in his crypt… Oh well, he guessed he could carry her.

He grabbed the front of her shirt and one bare, dirty thigh and pulled her up from the ground. Her head lolled downwards and the foot of her other leg dragged on the floor as he held her as far away from him as he could, not wanting to get all that mud on himself. Which is when he saw the shirt ride up her thigh and reveal her to be naked underneath.

That briefly gave him pause as he studied her. His eyes flickering over her once more before he shrugged. He was sure he’d get it out of her sooner or later. Spike did take a deeper breath of her though, trying to ignore the tantalizing scent of her blood, the earthy mud and everything else, searching for the distinct scent of male ejaculate or condoms on her. If someone had forced themself on her he knew he wouldn’t enjoy this the way he intended to.

There were male scents on her, more than one but when he pulled her lower body closer to his nose and drew another deep breath he was sure she’d not been attacked like that. Her core smelled untainted and delicious.

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes at himself, he walked over to the trapdoor and carelessly dropped her down the ladder towards his basement. She made no noise this time which told him she was fully unconscious now, all the better.

Spike dragged her limp form over to the chains he’d set in the ceiling and shackled her unresisting body into them. Grinned madly at the limp Slayer simply hanging from her wrists. Then he frowned, her legs were half folded under her and the shirt, as oversized as it was, left her woman parts exposed. The vampire huffed, this would be a picture-perfect demonstration directly from Angelus’ ‘How to break a woman - 101’. He had no interest in breaking her spirit especially not by forcing himself on her, so he huffed and started rummaging through his stuff. He was sure he had snatched some underwear at one of the rare occasions Dru felt like wearing some and he’d wager used and almost new would be considered better than none at all when being held captive and if not, he couldn’t care less.

He finally found a tiny little snow white and innocent looking pair of knickers and snorted at them. Dru loved playing innocent, it had made him smile, what with her cruelty being second only to Angelus’. He drew them to his nose and sighed sadly, her scent barely lingered on them. He must’ve gotten them off her very soon after she put them on and long before he got her going.

Turning to stand before the captive Slayer, he observed her. By the time he got them all the way up her legs, they’d be as soiled as the rest of her. He shrugged to himself, whatever. He still took care to carefully manoeuvre them up her legs while keeping them as clean as possible until he finally pulled them up and she was as covered as he could make her. Then he settled cross-legged and grinning in front of her, well out of kick range and waited impatiently for her to wake while he let his head go wild on the things he could do to her.


	2. A Change of Plans

10 minutes later he was fidgeting. She hadn’t woken yet, the cut on her forehead was still bleeding and his plans of epic snark battles and repaying all the indignities he’d suffered during his time as her Watcher’s ‘guest’ had halted. His eyes were rooted in the slow trickle of blood dripping down her face and ultimately to the floor of the crypt.

His eyes flickering from her cut to the small puddle of blood and her eyes he darted forward and dipped his fingertip into the puddle on the floor, it was cold. He almost shivered when he pulled the digit back and his eyes were glued to the crimson fluid on them. His demon side slipped over his face and he delicately licked his finger.

 _Oh god_. Her blood was potent, very potent and so… human. Pig blood didn’t hold a candle to this. He surged upright onto his knees, his yellow eyes fixed on the cut on her forehead and before he could stop himself his mouth was on the cut and he lapped at it. A moan tore from his throat at the taste of warm, powerful Slayer blood and he fastened his lips over the wound and _sucked_.

A blinding headache so sharp he hadn’t experienced before had him scream in agony and curl up into a ball, actually spilling what little blood he managed to pull from the Slayer onto the floor.

Buffy moaned at the noise, her head was pounding, her vision blurred and her wrists, shoulders and arms hurt. Besides, there seemed to be a vampire near her, she tried to move but found herself unable to. It didn’t filter into her mind that she was hanging off her wrists. Her brain was slow and sluggish and she struggled for a few minutes to return to consciousness.

Spike had turned away from her, head between his hands and tried to breathe the pain away. It didn’t work of course and he was paralysed from it even as he heard the Slayer start to wake.

Both of them needed a while to work through their pains to regain some semblance of awareness back. Spike succeeded more than Buffy though.

He slowly shifted out of her kicking range and turned his bleary eyes on her. She looked worse than when he’d shackled her up. Her lips were pale and her skin had an unhealthy pale tint as well as a sweaty sheen wherever she wasn’t dirty. Her pupils were dilated as she stared confusedly at Spike.

“Spike?” she murmured with slightly drawn eyebrows. What was he doing here?

“Slayer.” He rasped, slightly hoarse from his screaming. “Thought I’d give you the same welcome you gave me.” Now that she was awake, let the battles begin. He wasn’t in top shape with his brain being all scrambled but he could take her verbally even on his worst days.

But Buffy had trouble following his speech at all, let alone understand what he was saying. Desperately trying to work out why she felt so terrible she tried to look around. Everything had a grey edge and a hazy veil in front of her. She heard dripping and noticed she was cold and wet and shivering weakly.

Holding her head up to look around turned out to be too much effort for her and she let her head drop, squinting to look down at herself. She saw the shirt and something stirred in her. A memory. She’d taken this shirt from a man. A man she might have killed. Killed because he had wanted to…

She heaved and wretched but nothing came out of her stomach other than acid and she almost choked on it, the contractions in her ribcage jarring the pain in her shoulders and arms.

Seeing his verbal jab had done bugger all to rile her up and instead he could smell bile as it dribbled from her mouth, Spike sighed. This was no fun. What use was having a Slayer at his mercy if she didn’t even seem to notice him? Let alone fear or hate him.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make her body obey her in at least clearing the bile out of her mouth. After a short while, she’d gathered herself enough to spit the worst of it out. She watched it dribble to the floor and finally noticed she was half hovering above the ground. Her brain refused to provide her with an explanation as to why. She rolled her head from side to side, maybe to take in more of her surroundings but in the end she only made herself dizzy and returned to simply being.

Spike sighed, bollocks. Wasn’t right to keep her like this. She wasn’t even lucid enough to give into her knee-jerk responses of quipping at him. He silently admitted to himself that her heartbeat almost had him concerned, it was irregular and much too weak for the spiteful Slayer. Letting another sigh out he got himself up and released her from her shackles.

He’d get her for this. For ruining this perfectly good opportunity to use those shackles on her. She dropped on her hands which immediately buckled under her weight as she let out a pained cry.

The vampire snorted in disgust and grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to him. He wanted to lay into her for daring to be too weak to be a fun captive but hissed when he saw her skin tone had turned to grey, her lips were blue and the skin under the shirt felt clammy and much too cold for a non-dead body. She looked like she was dying on him.

Without thinking he had gathered her into his arms and close to his body, clambered up the ladder and run out the crypt and into the rain towards her house. Joyce would take care of her, get her warmed up and call the Watcher or someone to fix her up.

It barely took 5 minutes for him to reach Revello Drive at full tilt and because he had focussed his hearing entirely on her steadily diminishing heartbeat he missed the fact that there were no lights on in the house and no heartbeats to be heard. He pounded on the door loudly but when no one answered he looked up and finally noticed the house was empty.

Not good. The Slayer was slipping away from him, this wasn’t how he wanted to bag his third Slayer! Dying from hypothermia or whatever, Slayers needed to go out fighting!

He went around to the backdoor and when he found it locked too he snarled and kicked the door in. The frame splintered under his kick and he tumbled inside. Barely righting himself, he stormed upwards and into the bathroom with her, she was cold. Too cold. He needed to warm her up.

Spike toed his boots off while walking and stepped into the tub, fully dressed, dying Slayer in his arms he fiddled with the taps until lukewarm water rained down on them. He had no idea how to keep pulsers alive when they were dying. His speciality had always been making them die while they were trying to stay alive. Bugger.

Spike just stood there, unresponsive Slayer in his arms, slowly being drenched in warm water by the shower. Luckily he’d forgotten his duster in the crypt or it would’ve been ruined. Over the rush of the water, he had trouble hearing her heartbeat so he pulled her chest closer to his ears and thought her heart might beat slightly stronger but it was minuscule and her skin tone was still terrible.

Her body started jerking weakly in his arms and only because his head was already close to her chest he heard that it was her stomach trying to expel some more stuff. He shifted his grip on her so he had one arm across her chest and one over her hip as he awkwardly tilted her downwards in hopes she’d not puke on him. He heard the minute some bile had made it up into her mouth that doing so had been a mistake. Her already weak breathing became a terrible wet cough as she breathed it in, slightly panicked he set her down and held her lolling head straight on her neck until her coughing had cleared and her breathing, while still laboured, sounded better.

Immediate crisis averted, for now, he turned up the heat of the shower as they both had the same body temperature as the water now. On instinct, he started cleaning her while he thought about his next steps. As he’d done for Dru after the mob in Prague had left her filthy, he settled the Slayer in a sitting position her head resting back against his shoulder as he squatted next to her and started working the mud from her hair. This, he knew how to do. Cleaning a lifeless rag-doll was familiar.

So he worked the mud out of her hair and pondered how different his pale skin looked running through her blond hair instead of the dark hair of his princess. His hand looked a lot less like dead, as if the warm gold of her hair had lent life to his pale skin.

When her hair was rinsed clean, he quickly got the shower-head down and settled behind her. Leaning her back against his chest, he slowly ran the warm stream of water over the sides of her face, cleaning her face without drowning her. Not a concern he’d had when taking care of Dru but aware of it nonetheless.

He worked the shower-head from head to toe over her body, gently washing off dirt and blood. He was considering whether he should just take the shirt off of her now as she couldn’t stay in it when they got out anyway when she stirred again. For someone half dead according to her heartbeat, she certainly was a fighter, he smiled.

“Slayer, you got your marbles together for once?”

“Spike.” She murmured “Spike not gone. Need to find him.”

Stunned and confused Spike said. “Found ‘im, pet. Right here in the tub with you. Not chained to it for once.” He couldn’t help the little jab at her.

Buffy struggled to clear the haze in her head. Spike was here. That was important because… because… why was that important? The drugs were making her head wobbly and it ached. Wait, drugs. Yes, there was something.

“Drugs” she murmured. “Kidnapped. Gone. Everyone.”

Spike stared at her but urged her to explain “Slayer, what’re you blath’ring about.”

With enormous effort Buffy pulled herself together as much as she could, she had to tell him, he was the only one that was left.

“Took them – us. Drugged, naked. Mom, Giles, Riley,… everyone. Took me. Didn’t know Slayer. Wanted to spoil. K-killed him maybe. Ran. Find Spike. Find Spike. Get them.” Her strength left her and she fell unconscious again.


	3. A Patient

The vampire gaped at the Slayer. Had he just been told that the girl in his arms and Joyce had been kidnapped together with the rest of the gang? He snarled, no one got to lay a hand on Joyce, she was a kind lady and he’d tear every single one of those people apart. But with a fading Slayer at his hands, he’d have to get her awake enough again to get anything useful out of her before he could go and eviscerate those scumbags.

Right, he knew how humans worked. They needed to avoid leaking blood, needed to breathe, be warm and fed. Easy enough he supposed.

Her breathing was flat but she wasn’t drowning, check-mark on that one.

The shirt, which had been revealed as a man’s shirt after the dirt had washed off would need to go or he couldn’t be sure Buffy’s blood was staying inside where it was supposed to be. He ripped it open and was briefly stunned at the expanse of golden skin forming gentle peaks and valleys, he could see it vanishing into the by now slightly translucent pair of knickers he’d put on her. He swallowed, the Slayer was truly beautiful.

Harshly shaking his head, he pulled the shirt off of her and left it at the foot of the tub. She had a deep cut on her ribcage and what looked to be a small circle of puncture wounds on her hip. That would be the place where they drugged her then. It looked rough and torn as if she’d fought, of course she would.

He turned the heat of the shower further up until it had the temperature her body was supposed to be and kept running the shower-head over her almost naked body. He tilted her upper body forwards to check for any blood leaks on her back but only found large, deep purple bruises, as if she’d been dropped on her back hard. He ducked his head. That would have been him.

He slipped out from behind her and out of the tub. Spike settled her in the tub and after reminding himself and the demon to behave and that Joyce’ life might be at stake he bent over and licked the cut to close it, trying to see if the tiny amount still seeping out would give him hints to what she’d been drugged with but seeing as he avoided junkies as a rule, he had no clue. Her head wound had already closed due to his previous ministrations but shone in a stark black bruise around the cut. The puncture wounds tasted strongly of something bitter but he still didn’t learn anything from licking that wound either, aside from the fact that bathed in warm water her scent had him salivating. He resolved to ignore that and get on with the next requirement, warmth.

She had started shivering as she warmed up and Spike was slightly confused, why would that happen? In the end he simply wrapped her in every single towel he could find before hurrying her over to her bed and under the covers and blankets. He’d wrung out her hair and wrapped it in a separate towel.

Right, what now? Was that enough warmth? Looking at her pale and shivering form, it didn’t look like it. Ok, he knew from his time as a human there were coal pans to warm the mattress but when he looked under her bed he saw weapons and a chest there but no pots.

_Think, Spike. We’re not in 1880 anymore, you wouldn’t even know where to get coal! What else makes warmth_?

_Hairdryers_! Yes. He rushed back into the bathroom yanking open all drawers and cabinets until he found not one but two hairdryers, excellent. Disentangling the cords as he made his way back to the Slayer’s room, he plugged them both in and checked how warm they got. He flinched when his skin almost blistered at the highest setting. The lowest was ok enough. He stuck one under the blanket with her and immediately heard it make a lot more noise than before. He pulled it back out and realised. Right, the air has to be pulled in. He arranged both of the things to suck in air from outside the blanket and blow it under it. He could feel the blanket itself heat up. Good, that should do it.

Food next. Something simple, nothing he’d enjoy. The kitchen provided plenty and he piled his arms high with stuff when he smelled something burning. Dropping his bounty he flew up the stairs to see one of the hairdryers smoking.

He pulled the cord and hastily smothered the smoking blanket with the still damp shirt he stripped off. Then went around and turned off the other one as well. Bloody hell, so much for ‘easy enough’. Humans were high maintenance.

He grimaced when he sat on the floor in his still damp trousers to run his hands through his wet hair and recover from almost accidentally setting the Slayer’s bed with said Slayer still being inside on fire. Right, feeding Buffy now.

A brief look at her had him frowning, she was sweating now. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Was she too warm now? At least her skin looked less grey and pale.

He shook his head and returned to his pile of dropped foods, he picked most of it up and dumped it on the foot of Buffy’s bed. Before walking to stand next to her head, the only part of her not piled under blankets. Frowning down on her.

“Slayer, wake up. Got you some nosh.”

She stirred but didn’t wake up.

He grabbed her shoulder and shook her a bit. “Slayer, you need to wake up. Your Mum’s kidnapper is not going to kill himself.”

Her eyes opened blearily and she groaned. “Hurts.”

“You’re not losing any blood.”

She blinked slowly uncomprehending “Head hurts.”

“Right, don’t you have pills for that? Let me check.”

He walked back towards the bathroom where all the cabinet doors were still open. One of them had a plethora of pill bottles and packets. He picked through them tossing the ones he didn’t want over his shoulder until he found some Aspirin and returned to the Slayer, who was currently trashing on the bed with wide, panicked eyes.

“What’s wrong, Slayer?” he jumped to her side hands hovering over her wriggling shape under the blanket.

“Can’t move! Bound me! Let me go!” she shrilled at him, her eyes now screwed shut against the pain. How could this happen, waking up and having stumbled from one capturer to the next she thought.

“Calm down, you stupid bint. You’re not bound, you’re just waddled in towels. Need to keep you warm.”

Her eyes still closed against the pain, Buffy shifted until she’d wiggled one arm, then the other arm out of the towel cocoon. Spike was right, she was not bound, but she felt like she remembered something. Taking a deep breath she slowly squinted her eyes open. The grey edge was gone but it was too dark to make out much and it smelled like burning. Words however escaped her as a new wave of pain hit her head and she groaned and pressed her hands against her temples.

“’ere, some Aspirin.” Spike’s voice said from next to her.

She blindly grabbed for the bottle and when she found it she opened her eyes again. And noticed that Spike wasn’t wearing a shirt. In too much pain to care she said “Water.”

Spike snorted “Yes Mistress, of course Mistress.” But went and got her a glass of water quickly. When he returned he saw her struggling to get upright and sighed. Humans.

He briefly toyed with the idea to hold the glass for her, making her strain upwards the way she had made him do with the mugs of blood but quickly discarded the idea, he needed her up and in fighting spirits. He wrapped an arm around her now bare shoulders and pulled her upright, while holding the glass with the other hand, after she’d fumbled with the pill bottle for half an eternity she threw some into her mouth and shakily pulled his hand still holding the glass towards her mouth. He fed her some water and didn’t say anything.

The water felt heavenly for Buffy and she sighed in relief. “Thank you.” She murmured. Spike just lowered her back to the pillows and kept quiet. A weak and polite Slayer threw him off his game.


	4. A Deduction

Buffy pulled her sluggish thoughts together, shoved everything not related to saving her mother and friends to the back of her mind, she couldn’t deal with anything else right now. Not the thought that she’d been in the shower with Spike, not that she’d almost been raped, likely killed a man and been unconscious in Spike’s presence.

Anything could be happening to the ones she loved and that was her only focus. It had to be. Trying to ignore the pain she pulled up what she remembered and just talked.

“At the Magic Box. We were taken there. Mom was bringing coffee to cheer us up. Everyone was there.”

Spike’s attention snapped to what the Slayer was saying, he’d been observing and judging how much longer she’d need to be useful and thought she was not by far going to be able to do anything when she’d started talking.

“There was a sweet smell, flowery. Got very tired. Arms heavy. Head heavy. Everything heavy. Woke up, couldn’t move. Wet, dark, cold room, no windows. Midnight, bells were loud. Everyone still out. Everyone was naked. Giles has a tattoo.”

Spike smirked at the somewhat random information. For someone mostly out of her mind she’d given him plenty of useful information as well, he had to admit.

Subconsciously her hand sought out his and his eyebrows raised at that until she continued.

“Picked me up, I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. Said they wanted fun with… with the cult virgin?” she sounded doubtful as if she wasn’t sure that was what she’d heard. “Up the stairs, stone steps hurt on the knees. Three men in black dresses, hoods. Room is cold, steps echo when they walk. Pretty ceiling. Dirty floor. Gloated about finding the cult. Devil worsh-ship? Exorcize us later, spoil the ritual virgin first. Arms are still heavy but I can move. First one, dark hair cut short, brown eyes, gets his dress off, black bathrobe? Grabs my…”

She shuddered and squeezed his hand, he covered their hands with his and petted hers gently.

“Kicked his arse, Slayer, as usual. He didn’t get you.”

He saw her eyes fill with tears but she shook them away and Spike thought he might have gotten closer than was good for him. Rage boiled inside him. He’d rip the human apart, kidnapping Joyce, trying to touch the Slayer, the man was dead.

“Killed him. Was an accident, crushed his throat with a punch. Suffocated.” Spike was torn between a pout that he wouldn’t get to kill the guy and a proud grin.

“Got what he deserved.” he murmured to her. Buffy’s eyes opened and she looked at him as if wanting to see if he’d judge her. And somehow she nodded in response to his words and her eyes cleared a bit. Her grip on his hand remained strong and his stroking didn’t falter.

“The other two were surprised. They don’t know I am the Slayer. Knocked one out. The other one jabbed me with a pen in the hips, cut me with a knife. Smashed his head against a bench. I felt dizzy, getting worse, took the shirt from one, wanted to get to the others, heard voices, at least two. Maybe more.” She swallowed and was back to squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head away as if ashamed.

“I ran away, felt my head getting slow, body even slower. Fell a lot. Needed to find you. You can help. Will you help? Get Mom and the others out of there?”

“Yeah Slayer, ‘course I will. Your Mum’s a right lady, she shouldn’t be in that situation.”

Buffy sighed in relief and thanked him again.

“You remember anything else? Outside of the building, the direction you went to get to my crypt? Anything? Loud bells and pretty ceiling sounds like a church or chapel?”

The Slayer frowned and tried to remember more about her escape. “There were trees, not many gravestones, lots of mud. I didn’t look back, I just tried to get away, to get to you. I’m sorry.”

“Shut it, Slayer, you’re doing fine. More a park than a cemetery then. Did you cross many streets on the way? Bright lights? Loud noises? Distinct smells?”

Buffy was shaking her head, her head was hurting less but her thoughts were slowing down again. She felt so weak, she hated being weak.

Seeing the Slayer’s head wobble and her eyes droop Spike remembered the food. He slipped his hands out of her grip and twisted from the perch on the edge of her bed towards the pile of food.

“Hey, don’t you fall asleep on me again! Here, eat something.” He grabbed the loaf of toast and handed it to her. When she fumbled with the clip he groaned impatiently and opened the plastic bag for her. She started nibbling on a slice of bread and mumbled “Can I have some more water, please?”

Spike went to refill her glass while working through the possible buildings that could be where she’d been taken to. The clock in the microwave said 1:30 am, she’d been too drugged out to be able to walk far and they’d been here for an hour, so it must be right in his territory, there were maybe three churches in the vicinity. One was still in use and if the impression of the dirty floor was right, it couldn’t be that one. Which left two others.

He carried the glass into her room and she looked at him somewhat aware and awake. She let her eyes wander over the still half naked vampire in her door frame, his jeans clinging to him, his chest bare. It probably meant something she wasn’t grasping but he’d agreed to help get her Mom and friends back so she ignored it for now.

“It’s half one, I’ll go see if I can find the place where they’re holding them and see if I can get a lay of the land. Check if they touched a hair of your Mum’s, too.” He told her with a dark look.

Buffy nodded, she would be of no help like this and waiting any longer and worrying would not help her get better. “What are you going to do about _them_?” she spat the last word making it clear she was talking about the captors.

“Don’t rightly know yet. Depends on what they did until now. Plan is to do recon, find out the enemy numbers, what kinds of demons, maybe make a grab for your Mum or bust the entire thing if I can.”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll be up. Soon I hope and can be muscle. They’ve got at least two humans as part of the group as far as I know. Be careful, please, don’t leave me too.” She knew she was compartmentalizing but right now, Spike was her only hope for help and she wasn’t above grovelling.

The vampire handed her the glass which she took in both shaking hands and drank from it gratefully. Her big eyes pleading with him, whether to bring her mother home safe or just information or not getting captured, he didn’t know but something inside him tugged at her look.


	5. A Solution

Buffy fell asleep with the leftovers of her second slice of toast dropped on the blanket. She’d felt her body working overtime to flush the drugs out of her and pulled the arms back under to make sure she was fully covered and sweating as much as she could. She needed to be as strong as possible when Spike came back with the information, maybe even her Mom.

It hadn’t mattered that he never got around to dry his clothes. Having roughly repaired the back door and told the Slayer to expect him back in an hour latest, Spike was drenched to the bone not 5 minutes after he’d left the house.

Currently he was tracking across Restfield towards the furthest chapel. He’d scouted out the other one but found no new scents there and no heartbeats, it also didn’t look like there had been any recent comings or goings.

The old St. Christopher chapel had all three though. Multiple heartbeats, some strong, some muffled, the stench of fear and a lot of tracks around two of the three doors. He circled around in a wide perimeter and found only one guard who was huddling in the doorway of the main entrance, trying to stay out of the rain. He was more concerned with keeping people in than out.

Creeping closer he heard 4 strong and loud heartbeats behind the door leading to what had been the minister’s room and one more a bit quieter, he crept closer.

“All o’ the others are still out. Tranqued the males anyway just in case though. How’d the little bitch wake up so soon?” an angry voice said

“She’s probably used to drugs to keep her calm, built up a resistance, she’s been around for a lot of rituals I guess.” A higher pitched voice offered.

“It doesn’t matter.” Came a calm and authoritative reply “Cas said he got her with the tranq, she’ll be out there catching her death or getting hit by a car if she makes it to a street. She’s no longer a problem. It only pains me that we couldn’t cleanse her taint before she got away.”

The boss continued. “No more pulling them out from the holding though. We don’t know what deals they made with demons and if any more of them are possessed. They stay down and under the cross until sunrise when we cleanse their spirits and then the world of their cult.”

“But what about the other fair-headed female. We can’t let the ritual virgins go unspoiled!” protested the angry one.

Spike could hear the barely restrained patience of the apparent leader when he answered “The elder two are obviously the heads, neither of them will be virgins with the kinds of rituals they surely practice in that shop – hair of the colour of innocence or not.”

There was a pause and Spike thought that those wankers were a shoo-in for an asylum. What did hair have to do with innocence?

A round of murmured agreements came before another voice said “I call dibs on the backbench, ma head is poundin’ and I need some sleep.”

“Of course Cas, may your sleep be sheltered by her gaze.”

A door opened and closed inside the church and Spike cursed silently. If there was a guy in the main hall now, it’d be more difficult to sneak into the basement but Spike made his way to the third door anyway. It was some kind of minor utility access and just perfect for his purposes. Spike tried the door and congratulated his luck when it turned out not to be locked. Slipping inside he saw that he was in an antechamber which only had an archway and no door to the room behind the altar. There was a trapdoor as well. But too small for that to be the entrance Buffy had been dragged through.

He pulled it up anyway and peered down into the darkness, he saw shelves and a narrow ladder, obviously some storage room. No door from there though. He closed it again and sneaked towards the altar, next to it he saw an opening in the floor with stairs leading down. A guy with a gun sat on the uppermost step, his eyes trained on whatever lay below.

Spike was close enough to identify 7 slow but mostly steady heartbeats from below and considered whether that was enough for him to confirm Buffy’s friends and family were alive and reasonably well.

The door behind the guard opened and a man stepped out of the adjoining room. He nodded to the guy on the stairs and started wandering along the outer walls, obviously some kind of patrol. With three people in the main room, Spike clenched his jaw and silently retreated backwards. He drew a deep breath trying to find traces of demons but found nothing. It would have to be enough. Bloody tossers being humans meant he couldn’t do this alone; he needed the Slayer.

While he walked back to the Summers’ home, he considered their options. There weren’t many, he was useless for this. All of the captors, however soft in the noggin, were humans. They were armed and outnumbering them. He didn’t much care to be shot but could survive it, the Slayer would be in a lot more trouble though. This wasn’t looking good, with that many mental arseholes he couldn’t even be sure they would be able to just get out Joyce and bugger the rest of the lot. Not that the Slayer would agree to that anyway. Not looking good at all.

Buffy felt the tingles of a powerful vampire nearby jolt her awake. Spike was back and she gasped out his name “Spike! Where are they? Are they ok?” she asked in a rush.

Her blurry vision told her he wasn’t even in the room yet but a blink later he was at her side.

“Your Mum’s ok. Didn’t manage to see her but the heartbeats were steady. They’re at the St. Christopher’s chapel on Restfield. Six of ‘em. At least one of ‘em armed. Waiting for sunrise for some ritual.” He told her quickly.

Buffy slumped back and extracted an arm out of her blanket cocoon to wipe her brow. She was sweating buckets. Her head felt clearer though not by much and glanced at the clock.

“I was out for over an hour.” She held her still badly shaking hand out in front of her before dropping it, exhausted.

“I’ll not be up by sunrise.” She whispered in horrified resignation. Frustrated tears of rage sprung to her eyes. “What kind of demons are they?” she asked with a slightly clogged up voice.

“Humans. No trace of a demon, not even a vamp.” Buffy’s head snapped to him, hope shining in her eyes. Hope he didn’t understand.

“Really? All humans?”

“Yeah. Sounded like humans, looked like humans, smelled like humans. Why’s that good? Makes me useless against them and you’re not up in time to deal with them before they get started on your Mum.”

Buffy smiled at him unrestrained and happy. Spike took a step back, wow. Even banged up and drugged as she was, the Slayer shone with radiance when she smiled like that.

“It’s good Spike, it’s great even because humans kidnapping and drugging humans? We’ve got a whole bunch of people trained to deal with that and they’ll even lock them up so they won’t be doing it again.”

Seeing his confused expression she went on. ”Spike, if they’re humans, I can call the police.”

Spike blinked owlishly at that. “Huh, yeah. Figure you can.”

Buffy’s forehead crinkled and her eyes squeezed shut in pain again. Her head felt terrible. “Can you call them? Can’t get to the phone now.”

“What am I supposed to tell them?”

“The truth?” Buffy murmured, trying to work through the pain and suddenly rising nausea.

“Wha’? That the Slayer stumbled her way into my crypt to get help because she’d just escaped a kidnapping even though she should be drugged out of her mind?”

The headache was worsening and what little colour the sweating had returned to her had drained slowly but surely from her face again.

“Dunno. Make stuff up. Just get the police here. We can’t do it alone.” And after a brief pause where Spike saw her throat constrict rapidly she croaked. “Gonna puke.”

Spike hurried to the bathroom to get the bin and barely threw it under the Slayer’s face hanging from the bed in time.

Seeing she wasn’t all that much better, he decided to just get the police here, they came with doctors, right? He dug around in his pockets for an ID but was glad he had none on him so he could make stuff up as he went.

_“Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?”_

“I found a friend of mine stumbling about and just got her to consciousness, she says she’s been drugged and kidnapped.”

_“Where are you?”_

“1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale”

_“What is your name?”_

“Spike. Err… that’s Spencer Ike Abernathy.”

_“What is your friend’s name?”_

“Buffy Summers, we’re in her house.”

_“How is she?”_

“Very pale, cold, can’t walk, talks more wonky than usual, pukes, says she’s got a headache, falls unconscious a lot, a bit banged up. Erm… found her almost naked.”

_“How old is she?”_

“18 or 19 I’d say”

_“A patrol car and paramedics are on their way. Did she say anything about the abduction?”_

“Yeah, said they took her Mother and friends as well, she got lucky in a struggle and got away.”

_“Please stay on the line until the officers arrive but turn on as many lights as you can, so they can find you easily.”_

Spike could already hear sirens coming from across town. He flitted through the rooms, turned on all the lights and was back before the operator noticed he was gone. Then he heard Buffy coughing wetly and weakly.

“She sounds as if she’s choking, I need to check on her.” He barked into the receiver and was up the stairs.

Buffy was hanging her head over the side of her bed and laboriously heaving breaths before coughing.

“Slayer, what’s wrong?”

“can’t…” but whatever she wanted to say was swallowed by the sirens of police cars and ambulance in front of the door. Knocking on the front door followed and Spike was torn but medics could help her better than he could so he flew down the stairs and pulled the door open.

“She’s upstairs, breathing’s off, started vomiting.” He said without preamble and motioned the two officers and medical people inside. The medics went upstairs immediately while the officers looked at the scattered food supplies before following.

Spike hovered in the doorway as the medics looked Buffy over.

“What happened? Describe all symptoms and what you did.” The dark-haired woman with a pixy cut demanded.

“Found her at Restfield where I hang, she was muddied and banged up. She was mumbling nonsense, then collapsed unconscious. Thought she was drunk so I brought her home for her Mum to patch’er up. No one was there and she was very cold and looked grey in the face, so I kicked the back door in. Joyce will understand.”

He ducked his head as if he cared. The officers eyed him shrewdly, one of them left to check the door but otherwise kept quiet.

“Took her into the shower.” He motioned down his still soaked attire. “She started puking, I know nothin’ about medicine but did what I could. Warmed her up slowly, read that somewhere.”

“She woke for a mo’ and was almost coherent, said she’d been drugged and woke up naked. That there was a struggle and she ran away. Didn’t catch on yet that it wasn’t just a party gone wrong.” Spike was trying to keep it as close to the events as possible while explaining why he didn’t call the police immediately.

“Her pulse was weak and she was still pale, waddled her up in towels and stuck her in her bed. Thought she’d need food and found some.” He motioned to the pile of foods at the foot of the bed.

“She woke and complained about a headache, got her some Aspirin from the medicine cabinet and some water, got her to eat some toast.”

The medics were nodding along and sticking her with needles attached to some fluids, sticking a little wooden stick into her mouth and shining light into her eyes. They appeared to finish by putting her in recovery pose and wrapping her up again.

“Her pulse is slow and she is dehydrated and cold. The drug swipe shows a dangerous cocktail of narcotics and she exhibits symptoms of hypnotics. The head wound is concerning too, she might be concussed. We need to wake her up.” And the woman turned to Buffy and gently shook her shoulder.

“Miss Summers, please wake up. The police are here and need your help.”

One of the officers stepped into her room after having observed the battlefield of a bathroom. He was a bit taller than Spike but a very Californian looking young man, blond and broad-shouldered, he looked fit.

When Buffy’s eyes fluttered and she groaned he said “Miss Summers, my name is Officer Buchanan, we apologise for the urgency but we need you to tell us what you remember.”

Buffy fought her way to consciousness, police was here and dawn was not going to wait for her to sleep this off. She told her story again and the police came to the same conclusion as Spike had about where she was held.

She shot a look at Spike and continued. “They were crazy, they want to do a ritual with us at sunrise. With my Mom! And all of my friends.”

The officer shifted nervously, having been in Sunnydale long enough to know that rituals never spelled for good intentions. “Miss, did you notice anything… strange about the men you fought off?”

“You mean like tattoos? Nothing aside from the robes.”

“Any facial… disfigurations or skin conditions?”

“Oh, like the PCP gangs Principal Snyder always warned us about? I saw them on Teacher-Parent-Night one time, they were ugly freaks. But these men…” she shuddered visibly “…they weren’t drugged-up-super-strong, I took self-defence classes and managed to get away ok. They were surprised but had normal faces and skin like ours.”

Spike marvelled at the Slayer’s ability to lie, being drugged out of her mind apparently helped her creativity along and suppressed her tells. He noted the sigh of relief that went through the room and had to smother a smirk. Looked like the officials in Sunnyhell might have a severe case of selective blindness but were not stupid.

“Please Officer, you need to get them out! If I’m in this condition after just the initial smoke drug thingy, what if they drugged my mom with whatever was in that pen? Or Mr. Giles? They’re almost 50! Please get them out of there soon. And what if they’ll try to do to Willow or Tara or my Mom what they tried with me?”

Buffy didn’t know how to work in the information about the ritual being deadly so she pushed the fear and terror of the helplessness to the forefront of her mind and tears welled even though she’d been keeping it together even against the headache.

Steadily more police cars had been arriving at the house. Buffy had a brief fight with the medics about the fact that she needed to go to a hospital which she flat out refused. After that, the medics helped her dress and come down to the living room where some sort of centre of operations had been set up.

Spike had wanted to slip away in the rising numbers of uniformed people but had been roped into giving details about the abducted people while the medic had helped dress Buffy in her room.

So an hour later, after almost all of the police had left to get Buffy’s friends and family back he found himself sitting on the sofa with an elderly female police officer who introduced herself as ‘Officer Colbeck’. She would be keeping the people in the house updated on the progress of the rescue operation including a still wobbly but fully lucid Buffy who had at last been detached from the IV bag. She’d been given some mild pain medication as well and told to stay awake for a while longer.

Now she was anxiously sitting in the armchair and switched her gaze from the officer, to the clock, to the approaching dawn outside the window. Spike stood and very deliberately closed all the curtains. Giving her a pointed look, he told her

“No use staring out the window, pet. They’ll not walk past here.”

“I just wanna know what’s going on. What if they’ve moved them? Or…”

“Miss Summers, I understand your nervousness.” Officer Colbeck cut in “I’ll be just outside the door and listening in on their status if that’s ok with you?”

Buffy started to nod but winced “Yeah, that’d be with the good.” Knowing full well that both Spike and herself would be able to hear. _Thank you enhanced hearing_. She shifted to the couch anyway to be closer to the door.

When the radios crackled her hand automatically shot out to grip Spike’s thigh.

_“Team Two. We’re in position, have visual on two suspects on the roof, wearing robes. What on earth are they doing?”_

_“Team One. We’re in position too, can confirm. Two suspects, we can see them carrying rope.”_

_“Team Three also in position, we have no visual on any mountain goat suspects but the front door is covered by an armed guard. I repeat. Suspect at the main entrance is armed. Handheld firearm.”_

_“Team One. Copy.”_

_“Team Two. Copy that.”_

The door at the Summers’ house opened and Officer Colbeck stuck her head into the living room.

“The officers are on site and the suspects are still there, we can see three of them currently.”

Buffy pasted a shaky smile on her face and whispered “Thanks. Keep us updated, please?”

When the officer nodded and retreated outside, Spike leaned in and softly told her

“Quite the act you’re putting on. Aren’t you naughty, Slayer?”

But Buffy barely looked at him and gripped his thigh hard enough to make him wince when the conversation on the radio picked up again.

_“Team Three. We can see the roof suspects now, they’re fiddling with something at the bell tower—is that a noose?”_

_“Team Two. We can confirm. That ritual is not a fucking flower circle.”_

_“Team One. Lost visual on suspects, will start moving towards utility entrance.”_

There was silence for a while, then

_“Team One. In position. Team Two, move to secondary entrance.”_

_“Team Two. Copy.”_

More silence

_“Team Two. In position.”_

_“Team One and Two move on my mark. Team Three, you call in movements of hangmen.”_

Then there was silence. A long silence and Buffy half stood, straining to go out there and demand what was happening but a tug on her arm had her collapsing back onto the couch.

“They’re not going to chat while tackling the tossers. Won’t be long now.” Spike wanted her to let go of his thigh, while her hand was still not as warm as it could be it was still strong and he’d have a set of bone deep bruises there very soon.

Still Buffy gripped him yet harder and stared with wide and scared eyes at him when she heard

_“Team Three. We have an Officer down, I repeat Officer injured! Armed guard at front entrance taken out.”_

_“Team One. Ground level clear. Three suspects arrested and secured by Team Two. Hostages appear to be unconscious in the basement. Team One moving up to the bell tower.”_

_“Team Three. Medics for Officer arrived. Still got visual on the two suspects on the roof, they’re arguing.”_

Buffy let out a small moan when there was silence again and Spike had to pry her hand from his leg and took it in his, maybe she’d not crunch the bones there if he could squeeze back.

When the police officer stuck her head back in Buffy stood, as did Spike when he saw her sway keeping hold of her hand to steady her.

The radio crackled again before Officer Colbeck could open her mouth

_“Team One. Suspects surrendered, arrested and secure. Bell Tower clear. Building clear.”_

_“Team Two. Paramedics are on site. 7 hostages accounted for, all alive but unconscious.”_

Buffy turned and threw her arms around Spike’s waist as her knees buckled and she sobbed her heart out.

Spike patted her shoulder awkwardly at first but then sighed and pulled her into his lap as he sat back down on the couch, nodding at the smiling Officer in the doorway. Breathing the Slayer’s scent and letting out a small sigh of relief. Joyce was safe, the Slayer would come back to her strength and senses eventually. He’d still have her around to be a thorn in his side.

She would blush the deepest scarlet when she’d learn that he’d seen all of her, bathed with her and licked her wounds closed. She’d direct the most deliciously tempting rage towards him when she found out he’d had her unconscious and shackled up in his crypt.

Yes, his near future would be anything but boring, no matter the weather. He thanked whoever had brought her to his doorstep and rocked her slowly in his arms as she cried herself out curled up in his lap while he nuzzled her hair gently.


End file.
